


Olivier Mira Armstrong Beats Boredom

by pumpkinpyre



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alcohol, Bad Jokes, Dry Humping, F/M, Making Out, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 14:19:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13719486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinpyre/pseuds/pumpkinpyre
Summary: Olivier and Miles pop bottles and attempt to finally act on years of mutual attraction.





	Olivier Mira Armstrong Beats Boredom

A bored sigh ghosted from Olivier's lips. Paperwork was finished and filed, she'd already worked her patrol shift, and lights-out was technically half an hour ago. She sunk deeper into her cushy leather chair and kicked her feet up onto her big oak desk, because no one could fucking tell her that she couldn't. Her immaculately polished boots thudded against the wood. The clock on her wall ticked, just a few seconds slow. She sighed louder and longer, trying to fill the dead and empty air.

Mid-sigh, a knock came at her office door, followed by a "General Armstrong?" She grunted affirmatively, and the door opened. Major Miles. She took stock of him. Nice. He was toting a sizable bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice, with a red and gold Christmas bow slapped onto the side of it. 

Olivier's eyes locked onto the bottle with the precision of a crack shot, her interest piqued. "Ooh. Mine?" 

Miles smiled amusedly. She liked his smile. "Yes Sir, your parents' people delivered it. I, uh, think there's a card somewhere.." His eyebrows furrowed as he looked around for the card he’d misplaced. 

The blonde shook her head. "Don't care. Doesn't matter." She outstretched her arms to him, making a grabbing motion with her hands. "Gimme." 

“Yes Sir," replied Miles, stifling a laugh at her antics. Olivier was a bit disappointed. She liked his laugh. 

The smallest smile graced her lips as he set the bottle down. "Drink it with me," she softcore-ordered, gazing up at him through her darkened lashes. Miles now allowed himself a chuckle. Warmth bloomed in the supposedly frigid general’s chest. Odd.

“Please, Sir. I think that champagne may cost more than my last apartment."

She hit him with her familiar grumpy pout. It was one of her deadliest weapons. "Major, sit," she commanded, pointing to the pair of uncomfortable wooden chairs against the wall. The major relented with a shake of his head, grabbing one of the chairs and dragging it up to the desk. 

Olivier hopped up, swinging her legs over the side of the expensive hunk of wood. She made her way over to the cabinet beside her long-empty wine decanter and opened it. She'd smashed all the champagne flutes as a power play the last time one of those rats from HQ came up to snoop, as if anything would be amiss in _her_ fort. Nodding proudly at her past self, she grabbed a pair of bulbous, stemmed wine glasses. Close enough. 

Olivier could feel Miles's gaze on her, his eyes flicking down the back of her body. Oh. How very cheeky of him. She almost snorted. Cheeky. It was a shame she hadn't said that out loud, because it was fucking funny. She came and settled back into her chair, setting the glasses down on her desk. She popped the bottle open and poured some for the two of them. 

As they began to drink, Miles nodded to the bottle. "What's the occasion? I don't remember them sending champagne last year." 

Olivier shrugged as she sipped. "Mother sends photographs of stuff she buys me, as a sort of bribe to try and get me home for the holidays. My father, however.." She paused, swishing her drink in her mouth and feeling the bubbles on her tongue. She swallowed. "I'm a bit convinced that every nicety is just some sort of thinly-veiled ruse to try and win favor. He just wants to look generous, and kind, and... Patriarchal. So who knows what the motivation was this time.” The general sighed softly as she watched the major pour himself a second glass. 

“Mm, maybe he's plotting to just spend all of his money on opulent garbage so that there's nothing left for you to inherit when he passes," he offered, smiling slightly.

Olivier snorted. "He so fucking would, the jackass." 

Miles raised his glass in toast. "Fuck your dad." 

The general laughed. "I can drink to that." And she did, clinking her glass to his. "Fuck my dad." 

She brought the glass to her lips, and watched as Miles did the same. His hands were large and rough, but they held the fragile glass quite gingerly. His lips puckered at the rim of the glass, and they looked quite supple. Oh, fuck.

Olivier shifted in her seat, crossed and uncrossed her legs. She was suddenly so restless, and she knew exactly why. Her face was beginning to feel hot, and no doubt was reddening. She averted her gaze and tried not to imagine that she was shifting atop the major’s gentle hand. This was _not_ the time. She unfastened and shrugged out of her uniform jacket. She could feel his eyes again as she now timidly sipped her drink, trying to shut off the blaring I-Need-to-Have-Sex alarms going off in her head. 

Why was he looking at her? Was she acting strangely? Well, she was acting strangely, but had he noticed? She glanced back over at him. Oh, _fuck._

Miles set his glass down, head cocked to the side. "Sir, is everything okay?” He questioned, a hint of worry in his voice. 

A switch flipped within Olivier, and long-buried instincts took over. She leaned across the desk and grabbed the major by his shirt collar. She kissed him. Over and over. He kissed back surprisingly efficiently for someone who was not at all expecting to be kissed. He made a little _'Mmh'_ sound against her lips and Olivier was sold. She broke the kiss and rounded the desk. 

Miles’s breathing went funny for a second as she climbed onto his lap. She undid a few buttons on her shirt and he gawked. “Oh, whoa.” 

Olivier quirked her brow at him, entertained by the uncharacteristically juvenile response. “Good 'whoa' or bad 'whoa'?" 

“G-Good! Of course good," the quickly-unraveling man stammered, an eager smile springing to his face. 

The general chuckled and gently touched his chest as she moved in for more kisses. "Well, in that case, I’m flattered.”

Miles’s excitement and arousal were already written all over his face. Dilated pupils in eyes that mysteriously kept wandering to her cleavage, the hammering of his heartbeat beneath her hands. Olivier had seen this all before, but it was so much more satisfying on him. She could feel him through his pants. His breath hitched as she rolled her hips. She smirked. Yep. Definitely hard. 

She leaned in closer, her chest flush against his. "I.. Want you, Major.”

His eyes widened a bit. "You do?" 

The delighted general emitted a soft laugh. “Come on, you’re an intelligent man. Why do you look so surprised? I’m literally on top of you, and I.. Haven’t really been too subtle recently.” She smiled, her fingers teasingly tracing the line of his jaw. “You’ve been making it quite hard, you know. With your husky voice, and your...” She glanced at his chest. “Assets.”

Miles cracked an impish smile. “I could say the same to you, Sir.” 

Olivier snickered. “I hope for both of our sakes that you’re better at sex than you are at cracking jokes, Miles.”

Her silver-haired beefcake of an adjutant only grinned wider. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

They resumed their kissing. His hands found their way onto her rear, and she rutted her hips against him, vying for friction. Emboldened, he gripped her tighter. The sensation was enough to make her shiver. Their moans mixed and their tongues collided. 

The chair tipped. 

The sounds that followed were of snapping wood and so much laughter. It took a moment for the two of them to collect themselves, contain the giggling.

Miles sat up, bringing his superior with him. She appreciatively patted his ample chest, and he offered a sheepish smile.

“Sorry about the chair, and for, uh.. Killing the mood.” 

She took his face in her hands and sweetly kissed his nose. "It’s not a big loss, those chairs are ugly as sin.” She smiled playfully. “And don’t worry, we can try again. Though, maybe in a bed this time."

“Maybe the shower,” Miles mused.

Olivier snorted. "Maybe."

**Author's Note:**

> This is something short, originally from December of 2015! The bulk of the content is unchanged, but I did attempt to beef it up just a tad before posting. Also edited for diction and grammar. My characterization is SO much stronger in this than in anything I've written recently! I was so much sharper back then! Guess I'll just have to get back into the practice. I hope to post more here soon! Both edited oldies and new stuff. Fingers crossed!


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